


Hot and Cold

by TheIceQueen



Series: My Wincest works [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: A lot of comfort, Angst, Caretaker Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Ice, Kissing, M/M, Medical, Medical Examination, Medical Kink, Mother Hen Dean Winchester, Nervous Sam Winchester, Nervousness, No Plot/Plotless, Pain, Phobias, Porn, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Touching, love that tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 21:22:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14341170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheIceQueen/pseuds/TheIceQueen
Summary: Dean is taking care of a hurt Sam, who are dealing with the aftermath of having been locked up in a mental hospital.





	Hot and Cold

The fingers moving swiftly over his shoulder blades and down his spine would under any other circumstances have made Dean shiver with pleasure, but today something was wrong. Sam’s touch is too light, too nervous. It makes Dean tense and he hardly notices the trail of goosebumps the touch drew over his skin. His brother’s slightly shaking hands moved over his boxers and down one leg. He knew the drill by now and lifted it, so Sam could check the joints for injuries. Then the other.

Normally Dean would have complained all the way through and made Sam fight to examine him, even though they did this after every hunt, but today Sam was barely standing, and Dean had gotten undressed without a word. Sam only acted like this when he knew that Dean would find something. It was Dean’s turn to fight for it.

Sam placed Dean’s foot on the floor and used the chair next to him to push himself up. Dean quickly grabbed his arm and helped him get standing.

“So, I’m golden?” Dean tried his best to lighten the mood just a little, but not even earning a smile from his taller partner.

“You’re fine. Nothing a shower and some rest wont fix.”

Sam was looking at his hands, fidgeting with the sleeve on his jacket. Dean placed a heavy and calm hand over them and used the other to push Sam’s chin up, so he could look in his brother’s eyes.

“You hurt bad?”

“Don’t think so.”

Dean lifted one of Sam’s hands, and holding it with both of his he kissed it lightly.

“Strip down and lay on the table for me.”

Sam froze. He hated the table. He hated everything that made him vulnerable and out of control. He hated everything slightly reminding him of hospitals or doctors. Cas had taken Lucifer from his mind, but being locked up, drugged and tied down had made an imprint on the younger Winchester.

“What...? What for?”

“Love, you can barely stand. Go on. I’ll get some ice.”

Dean left Sam to get undressed in his own pace. In the quiet kitchen, he could hear his own heart beating, but for all the wrong reasons. Sam hated this, but Dean might hate doing it to him even more.

* * *

Sam was half standing against, half sitting on the narrow and too lightly padded exam-table. He was only wearing his boxers; the visible cuts and bruises wasn’t enough to make Dean worry. If it was the other way around Dean would have been half way to finishing just thinking about being the object of play in the bunker’s infirmary. The opportunities Sam would have to choose from, what he could do to Dean in here was too much to even think about. The face and body language on his brother was dampening the mood entirely, though. Sam’s back was rounded, shoulders forward. His hands were fidgeting in front of him and he was looking at an unspecified spot on the cold tile floor. Dean only felt the need to comfort his little brother but knew that there probably was an injury he needed to take care of too.

Dean put down the ice and walked to Sam slowly. He cradled Sam’s face with both hands and pressed their foreheads together.

“Relax, Sammy. It’s only me in here. I’ll never hurt you.”

“I know.” Sam’s voice was deep and controlled. Nervous, but not enough to prevent Dean’s knees from softening and making him slightly unsteady for a moment.

Dean pushed gently on Sam’s shoulder and moved with him as he lied down on his back. Sam’s breathing sped up and Dean put a heavy palm on his rapidly moving chest. The other hand brushed the fingers through the long dark hair. God, the hair was so soft, it always smelled like coconut, even after a hunt. The hand continued tenderly down the side of Sam’s face. Sam closed his eyes and pressed against it, looking for more contact, with the warm surface. Dean stilled his hand and came close, face to face, only inches from his brother’s closed eyes, he whispered.

“It’s okay. Sammy. Just lay still.”

He moved the last two inches down, and ever so lightly, kissed the lips of the trembling boy. Sam opened his eyes and Dean found himself falling into the green and hazel sea as his brother lifted his head to come back for seconds. Dean kissed him once more, it took all the self-control he could conjure up to tear himself away and get back to the task. Sam’s head landed with an almost inaudible gasp on the table as Dean stood up and took his hands away.

“You’ve got some cut’s.” Dean lifted Sam’s arm to get a look all the way round. “Can you turn on your side?”

Sam silently complied and turned his back to Dean. There weren’t any big cuts there, only a few smaller ones and some light bruising, but the sound Sam made while moving, triggered Dean to believe that something was hurting him.

Dean was exceptional in noticing details when it counted, on a case or in a fight and when looking for injuries. However, the thing Dean instinctively knew most about was Sam. Keeping his brother safe, knowing when something’s wrong, pleasing his lover. Taking care of Sam was what he did best, and that’s why he knew that the grip Sam had on the edge of the table, wasn’t so he could keep still while Dean was touching him. The white knuckles and the tense shoulder bore witness to a fear out of proportion to what was happening.

“Love. I’m only touching you with my hand.”

Sam nodded, and Dean placed his hand on his shoulder blade. His fingers started the dance that was so imbedded in his brain, that he had time to notice and enjoy the goosebumps, spreading from under Sam’s hair and slowly following the fingers down. The dance continued over the broad shoulders pressing harder as Sam started to relax into the touch. Following the spine down to the lover back, the fingers pressed deep down in a tense muscle and earned Dean a moan from the hurt hunter, that came from more than just pain. Dean praised himself for not getting dressed before this. The loose boxers were much less constricting than the jeans he always wore.

Satisfied that there was nothing but soreness in Sam’s back, Dean brushed his flat palm up over the thousands of small bumps decorating the skin. He continued the movement under the slightly damp blanket of hair and stopped on the back of the head. Sam was definitely breathing deeper now, and every time he let the air back out a small, almost none detectable, moan came with it.

“Lay back again. Nothing to worry about there.”

Dean was relieved that he didn’t had to do stitches, and especially on a place where Sam couldn’t see. He lifted the other arm to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. Sam was watching him, Dean knew that look, he was deciphering Dean’s every move and facial expression. Dean took his hand with both of his and turned it palm up. Sam let out a sharp sigh and the muscles around the left eye twitched.

“Didn’t you notice this when you examined me?”

“No. I…” Sam’s voice cracked, and Dean wanted to pick him up and run away. From what he didn’t know, the bunker was the safest place they knew, but Sam didn’t feel safe and it made Dean sick to his stomach.

“Shh. I get it.” Dean placed a hand in on the center of Sam’s chest hoping it would calm him down a little. They’d both been there before. Whether it’s adrenaline or some other injury masking it, sometimes it’s just hard to notice everything.

Dean lifted the hand, so Sam could see everything, while he bent and twisted the joint. It was clearly sore and the bruising around the wrist and up the hand to the root of the little finger wasn’t pleasant looking, but he was fairly quickly convinced that nothing was broken, but now Dean needed to know what had hidden that injury.

He didn’t want to startle Sam and possibly prompt the anxiety to elevate, by making him think that he was angry, so he took the hand closest to him in a soft grip and the same with the shoulder. He smiled at him. It wasn’t hard to do. Even taking up all the space on that narrow table, Sam looked small waiting for Dean to speak.

“Sammy. Tell me you weren’t keeping that to yourself on purpose.”

“I wasn’t. I didn’t notice. I swear.”

“Hey, hey, love. I’m not mad. I won’t ever be mad at you for being scared.” Dean bent down and cradled his brother’s head and as if he was afraid he would brake under the touch, he kissed him so lightly on the forehead that he barely tasted the shiny pearls of sweat building up.

Looking deep in to Sam’s worried eyes and brushing a hand through his hair, Dean continued speaking. He wanted this to be done now. His lungs couldn’t handle Sam being in this state for so long.

“Listen. Your wrist is not broken, a bandage and it’ll be fine…” Sam nodded. “… and no stitches, we can clean the cuts in the shower and bandage them in another room.” Dean saw tension leaving Sam’s face statement by statement.

Dean smiled and moved a strain of hair from his brother’s eyes. Sam was relaxing, and Dean didn’t want to continue. To break eye-contact and bring them both back to reality, was not an option, and he settled for something in between. He placed a hand on Sam’s chest with pressure enough to make him think that he was being held down, but Dean made sure the gaze shared between them contained noting but trust. The other hand made its way down Sam’s ribs, sending shivers through the large being, strong enough that Dean felt him shake. The most beautiful high-pitched noise Dean had ever heard made its way through Sam’s airway hidden in a short gasp. Dean felt the fabric of his boxers getting pinched between him and the table. He shifted a bit to get comfortable, still moving his hand, pressing and prodding over Sam’s torso.

When Dean hit a spot that obviously hid a broken rib, Sam squeezed his eyelids together, broke eye-contact and turned his head away. Dean was losing him, he quickly grabbed Sam’s chin and kissed him deeply.

The first few seconds the kiss was one-sided. Dean didn’t let go. Words didn’t work and there was no more eye-contact. This was all he had. Eventually Sam caught up and kissed Dean back. A hot shower of relief washed over Dean’s entire body, and for a moment he dwelled in the love and trust, communicated only to him, through the soft lips and tongue, greedily asking for more.

One hand on Sam’s jaw and cheek, and the other still examining every inch of his upper body, Dean stayed in the kiss and Sam responded by placing his good hand on Dean’s ribs and relaxing everything else.

Sam unexpectedly turned his head and cried out in a pained and shocked sound, while pushing Dean’s ribs to get him away.

A shocked Dean took a step back and watched Sam rolling into himself with his back against Dean.

“Sam?!”

Dean rushed to the other side of the table just in time to stop his brother from rolling of it. He held him by the shoulders and tried to roll him back, but Sam wasn’t having it.

“Dee.” Sam’s voice was only air.

“What is it?”

Dean was worried now, had he really missed a serious injury for so long? Sam had been walking like he was hurting and had clearly favored his midsection, but Dean hadn’t thought it was more than the ribs and maybe a strained muscle.

Sam gasped for air, clearly trying to speak.

“No need to speak. Hey, hey, love. Just point.”

Sam’s hands were locked in position, squeezing his lover midsection, between his thighs and stomach. He started to unfold, slowly and gasping for air, letting Dean help him to lie on his back. His legs were still bent, and Dean saw now that it wasn’t ribs or stomach that was the problem. Sam was protecting his crotch.

If Sam had torn or sprained something down there and his body had reacted just vaguely like Dean’s moments earlier, he couldn’t begin to imagine the pain Sam was in right now. Sam was panting and wheezing.

Dean brushed away Sam’s hair looking into his panicking eyes. “Okay. Just breathe. Ride it off.”

“N… no.” Sam shook his head. Dean could hear the desperation in his breathing. “I’m… still…”

Sam looked down at himself and Dean’s eyed followed. “Fuck!”

Dean rushed to the bucket with ice and set a speed record in filling a pillow case. He placed it fast, and with no time for explanation, on Sam’s privates. The cry that filled the room made Dean shiver from cold himself, but he held on to the bag and to Sam’s shoulder, just incase he was going to roll around again.

“Sorry, babe. I’m so sorry.”

“Not… your… fault.”

Sam seemed to be breathing a bit calmer, not by much but Dean wasn’t expecting normal breathing from anyone with a crotch covered in ice.

“Getting better?”

Sam nodded but the shivers running though his body kept him from speaking. Dean leaned over Sam’s face again and placed a firm kiss on his forehead.

“Now, you’re not getting more than that. You clearly can’t handle it.”

Dean smiled but the look on Sam’s face told him that, while the ice was still on, might have been too soon for jokes.

“Sam.” Dean talked calm but firm. “Where did the pain start?”

“Groin.” Sam still sounded unbelievably frightened but sure in his assessment, and Dean found comfort that he hadn’t said balls, or something else that could have meant that he would have had to take his terror-stricken lover to a hospital.

“Good. Sammy that’s good. It means it’s just a tendon or a muscle.” Dean smiled at Sam and moved the ice slowly to see. Sam moaned deeply, and for a second Dean considered if he needed the ice for himself, but thankfully he could manage an erection, even if it wasn’t the first or even second in the last half hour.

“Never thought I would be happy to see you go down before cumming.” Dean removed the ice and Sam’s body fell limp on the table.

Dean went to the other side of the table again and took Sam’s good hand. “Can you let me look at your legs real quick. There’s probably nothing there, but let’s make sure, okay?”

Sam nodded and squeezed Dean’s hand before Dean let go and moved to the long legs, slowly tensing from the promise of touch. Dean looked closely, again a few cuts and quite a lot of bruises, but nothing serious. Dean could hear Sam trying to control his breathing while he was prodding and bending every joint, but he let Dean work and Dean wanted to do this fast. Using arousal to distract Sam, and himself, from the seriousness of it all, wasn’t working anymore.

“Okay, love. Nothing more to do here. Are you able to get up or do you need a minute?” Sam was already seated and, on his way to standing, when Dean ended the question. He was already swaying from dizziness.

“Hey, big guy. Take it easy. Just give yourself a second.”

Dean pushed a reluctant Sam back on the table.

“Dee. Please?” Sam was tired, and his voice sounded like he’d been crying for a week.

“I know. Trust me I get it.” Dean grabbed Sam’s hands, careful not to hurt the bruised one. “We’ll get out of here in a second. Just breathe.”

Sam took a deep breath as Dean kissed his collarbone and another as he kissed his earlobe.

“Okay. Let’s get to that shower. We both need cuts cleaned and you need a serious massage.” Dean let his gaze fall over Sam’s chest and past their hands.

Dean walked out the door and down the hall, Sam following holding Dean’s hand.

As they stripped out of their boxers Sam paused.

“Dean… I’m sorry, I’m such a mess.”

“Babe. C’mon. You know I love you?” Sam nodded looking at his feet. “Good, now let’s get you warm and relaxed so you can heal quick. I’m sure it would hurt me more than you if it’d never work again.”

Dean didn’t get an answer, but he detected a smile behind the dark hair forming a curtain over Sam’s face as he shook his head and followed Dean into the shower.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first fiction I've written with a ship or a couple, or anything sexual. 
> 
> Let me know what you think. I love comments.


End file.
